No One Will Ever See
by danniperson
Summary: Harry needs one thing from Snape before he can marry Ginny. Sequel to To Just Stay Alive.


**NO ONE WILL EVER SEE**

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Harry Potter's second experience with firewhiskey was almost as bad as the first. It had been two years since his last drink. After defeating Voldemort, he told himself he would never touch the stuff again, determined to never be that weak and need it that desperately again.

Yet here he was, sitting in a dark corner of the bar with his own bottle of the stuff. It was his last night as a single man. His friends all wanted to do something, have fun and to celebrate tomorrow's nuptials. Ron had made all sorts of plans, but Harry assured him he just wanted to be alone and to get some rest. They were disappointed, but they understood. Thankfully they wouldn't come here and would never expect to find him here.

He was marrying Ginny Weasley tomorrow. It was what was expected of him. He thought it would be good to date Ginny. People wouldn't approve of him being gay and he did need to get his mind off of the man he loved. He hadn't seen Severus Snape since the man walked away from him on the battlefield. He almost wished he had died out there, to get away from all of this. He had held onto some hope of his life being his once Voldemort died. Sadly, that hadn't been true. He was the Boy Who Lived Again. The hero of the world. For a while he thought their expectations were the things he wanted…To be an auror and to be with Ginny and everything else. But he wasn't happy. He didn't want any of this anymore…But he couldn't stop it. His life wasn't his and he had already given up hope of having anything he knew he wanted. He could at least pretend to be happy. Maybe, just maybe, he could fool himself into thinking he was.

For now, though, all he wanted to do was drink and admit to himself that he was miserable.

He watched the bar from the darkness, as a middle aged couple danced to the soft music filling the place, slumped against each other and stumbling around, proof that they had both had too much to drink. At one table, a group of five shady characters playing a game of cards. Harry watched as people trickled in and out of the bar, watching every kiss and every dance and every drink ordered and ever shot taken, ever cigarette lit up...Every touch, every movement...Watching these strangers with far more interest than he might have any other day. He envied them, he decided. He envied their anonymity and their freedom. Not everyone knew them by sight. Not everyone knew all about their tragic history. They didn't live their lives with high expectations of the entire world on their shoulders. Maybe they didn't have perfect lives. He didn't know these people at all. But he did know he'd trade places with any of them any day.

In his watching, Harry was well aware the moment Severus Snape stepped into the pub. Despite himself, Harry perked up, his emerald eyes eagerly following the man as he walked up to the bar, ordering a drink. He sat alone and seemed perfectly content by the fact. Harry finished the rest of his own drink and glanced around the bar. There weren't many people here now and he felt a bit more relaxed, a bit more comfortable standing up from his booth and walking over to the bar. He noticed the man tense up and Harry froze a moment, unsure if he should go through with this or not. He was a bit buzzed, though, and reminded himself of his Gryffindor bravery. He would spend the rest of his life living the way he was expected to live. Much like that night two years ago, he figured it wouldn't be so awful to go off to war with at least having experienced something he desperately wanted. Snape had walked into the very bar he decided to get drunk in…Maybe it was fate, Harry mused.

"Another firewhiskey, please," Harry said quietly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Snape muttered, taking a long drink of the glass the bartender sat in front of him. For some reason taking that as an invitation, Harry sat down on the stool beside the man. "I hear you are marrying a Weasley tomorrow. Congratulations."

Harry shrugged. He really wished Snape didn't have to bring up Ginny. He didn't want to think about her or tomorrow's wedding or anything else. "I still love you."

Snape chuckled darkly. "You are a fool."

He didn't ask why he was marrying Ginny, if he was in love with someone else. Harry supposed he was glad Snape didn't care enough to ask. Having to tell the man because I have to would sound stupid and he was sure no one would really understand that he did have to. "I want you to fuck me."

Snape was silent for a moment, taking another sip of his drink. "You certainly ask for a lot, don't you, Potter?"

"Think of it as a wedding present," Harry suggested with a smirk. He shifted anxiously on his stool, waiting for Snape to reply. When he had asked (or rather demanded) that kiss from Snape two years ago, he knew he would get it. Snape wanted him to go fight in the war and Harry would refuse until the man kissed him. Harry had nothing to hold over the man here. He could only hope sex was a good enough offer for him to not want to turn down.

"I have a wife," Snape said.

The words hit Harry like a punch to the gut. Since when had Snape been married? He couldn't help but bitterly wonder who would marry such a greasy bastard, but Harry figured he didn't have much room to talk-he had been in love with the man for years. Harry swallowed hard, wondering who on earth the lucky bitch was. Was she pretty? Did he love her? Did they have children? Why had he never heard of her? Snape was a private man, Harry reminded himself. And it wasn't as if Harry scoured the marriage announcements or birth announcements in order to see if there was a new Mrs. Snape or a newborn baby Snape or anything like that. He only ever paid them attention when it came to his and Ginny's marriage and Evan's birth and the marriages and births of his friends, and that was only because he knew to expect them in the _Daily Prophet_.

Then again, maybe it was a lie. Maybe Snape was just saying it for...for _something_. And if he _did_ have a wife, she couldn't matter much. He didn't say it like a man bound and determined to be faithful to his wife or even a man struggling against the temptation offered because he knew he needed to be faithful. He said it and his tone betrayed little meaning to the comment. Realizing this, Harry relaxed a bit and licked his lips.

"I have a fiancé," Harry reminded him.

"That you do," Snape said, finishing off his drink. Harry hadn't even touched the new firewhiskey the bartender had brought to him. His green eyes were focused solely on the man in front of him, feeling his stomach twist inside of him and his heart ached, screaming out for Snape and begging him to do something. He really did love this man. Just being near him was the most blissful sort of torture. He knew his feelings were unrequited, but that didn't seem to be enough to stop him from pressing for more from the man. Something from him. He needed it. It was pathetic how desperate he was to have this from him.

Silence followed for a few moments and Harry shifted in his seat again, growing impatient. "Fuck me," Harry muttered, hating that pleading tone in his voice.

"Have you ever been with a man before?"

"No."

"Have you ever been with anyone before?"

"…No," Harry admitted, swallowing hard and trying to fight away his embarrassment.

"Very well," Snape said, sliding off of the stool and motioning to Harry to follow him. Harry practically jumped out of his stool eagerly, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Snape walked to where there were less people and pulled him close before Disapparating. They landed directly inside of a house…A living room that didn't look lived in at all. It had that clean, untouched quality that made Harry think of Privet Drive, though it was very old and dark.

Snape let go of Harry and headed towards a staircase and Harry tore his eyes away from his surroundings and jogged after Snape. He caught notice of a door in the hallway quietly closing. He didn't see who it was and Harry wondered if that was Snape's supposed wife. He paused for a minute and stared at the closed door, his heart hammering in his chest. Somehow hearing about Snape's "wife" hadn't stopped him, but the prospect of her being here made him uneasy. Maybe it was a guest or a house elf or something, Harry comforted himself. Snape didn't slow down, and Harry picked up his pace again, watching Snape walk into a room at the end of the hall and Harry hurried after him.

Harry was surprised that Snape had brought him home, but he wasn't going to dwell on those thoughts. All he was worried about was getting what he wanted. One night spent with the man he had loved for a few years. Maybe he could fool himself into thinking it meant something. Hopefully Snape wouldn't discourage him too much. He wanted one brilliant moment with this man before he walked into that prison that would be the remainder of his life. He could do it as long as he had this. Much the same way he could go to war as long as he got that one kiss from Snape.

The bedroom was a bit small and empty…Though Snape had resumed his position as Potions master at Hogwarts and probably didn't spend much time here…Wherever here was. Snape's home, was Harry's only guess. There was a large bed in the middle with a navy blue bedspread and cream colored sheets. Snape stood beside the bed, his back to Harry as he shrugged out of his robes, leaving him in black pants and a black sweater. Harry stared at the man, standing in the doorway and just staring as he pulled that black sweater off, revealing his pale, scarred flesh.

"If you expect me to fuck you, Potter, you need to be in the room," Snape said, turning around to him. "And naked."

Harry wanted to make a comment about enjoying the show, but he only nodded mutely and stumbled inside, shutting the door behind him and eagerly pulling off his own maroon sweater and tossing it to the floor, keeping his eyes on Snape as much as possible as the man shoved down his pants. Harry would have much preferred to remove all of Snape's clothing himself and have Snape do the same, but Harry wasn't about to be picky. He was lucky enough as it was to get this.

Snape stopped when he was just in his briefs, and Harry was pleased to see the man was already hard. Harry licked his lips and kicked off his own shoes and socks before yanking off his pants as Snape walked over to him. "Not half bad, Potter," Snape muttered before grabbing him and pulling him close, leaning down to kiss him deeply. Harry immediately and eagerly responded, wrapping his arms around the older man and kissing him back passionately. He could feel Snape's hardness press against his stomach and Harry groaned in response, his own arousal straining against his boxers. Harry shivered softly as Snape ran his hands along his sides and his back, allowing his own hands to glide along Snape's bare skin. Harry wanted to look, wanted to explore the man, but he didn't dare break their kiss. Harry told himself that tonight, he wasn't going to be the one to stop anything.

The older man's talented fingers trailed down Harry's spine before reaching down to cup his arse and squeeze it firmly, pulling the younger man even closer to him. Harry gasped quietly into the kiss, feeling Snape move him and Harry gladly (and clumsily) followed Snape's lead until he felt the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he allowed himself to fall onto it. Snape let him go, still trailing his hands over Harry's young, muscular body a moment before stepping away and walking around the side of the bed to the nightstand. "Hands and knees," the man instructed and Harry nodded and silently rolled over and crawled up into the center of the bed. His heart felt like it might burst out of his chest at any moment and his cock was throbbing so much it was painful with his need. He said nothing, though. He endured the slight awkwardness and embarrassment he felt from this position and waited.

Only a moment later he felt the bed dip beside him and he turned his head to watch Snape crawl onto the bed behind him, carrying a vial of some clear liquid. Snape said nothing as he gripped the waistband of Harry's boxers and slowly pulled them down and Harry shifted when he needed to to allow their removal. Snape settled in behind him and Harry was suddenly aware that the man was as completely naked as he now was. Harry wanted to turn around and look. He wanted desperately to kiss and touch and look over every inch of the man behind him. Harry licked his lips, the words on the tip of his tongue, though he didn't dare push the issue.

Harry hissed in surprise and pain when Snape first pushed his finger inside of him. It burned slightly, but slowly faded away after a few moments as Snape slowly slid his finger in and out of Harry. It was hard not to feel a bit weird sitting here like this with Snape's finger in his bum. Harry breathed deeply and stared down at the sheets beneath him and sometimes glancing around the mostly bare room. He hissed again, gritting his teeth as a second finger was added. It was a bit more painful, but it faded away just as quickly as the first had. The two fingers moved together in and out of him much like the one had and after a moment a third was added. "Fuck," he grunted, cringing at the pain, but slowly relaxing as it went away.

He longed for Snape to say something to him…Whispering sweet and loving words to him, or at least murmuring in a seductive tone. He wanted love or passion or something here and he almost regretted asking for this. The silence carried on and Harry hated himself for letting this happen. He felt ashamed of himself for being so desperate and hated himself even more for not having the guts to walk away now. Instead he tensed up a bit as Snape shifted behind him and moved closer. One arm wrapped around his body, long, slick fingers wrapping around his cock while the other rested on his hip as Snape pressed into him. He wasn't as slow or gentle as he had been with his fingers, instead roughly thrusting in and Harry groaned in pain, grasping the sheets beneath him as Snape continued stroking him. Snape at least paused for a moment while Harry got used to the intrusion before pulling back and pushing back into him.

Harry hated himself. He hated himself as he sat on his hands and knees, listening to Snape's ragged breathing and his grunts as he slammed roughly into him, still working his fingers over his shaft. It wasn't this amazing experience he had hoped for. This was nothing at all like his dreams, but he said and did nothing, only letting himself take it. After a few minutes, Snape's cock brushed against something inside of him that made him moan in pleasure. He heard a quiet chuckle behind him and Snape continued hitting that spot repeatedly and Harry moaned and writhed beneath him, pushing his hips back eagerly against Snape's. He let himself enjoy the physical pleasure, trying to let it overtake his mind and consume him in this wonderful, passionate bliss. People spoke so highly of sex and it felt bloody fantastic, but…It wasn't that amazing experience Harry had thought it might be. No matter how good it felt, it never did overwhelm that painfully empty feeling inside of him nor did it take away that nausea rising within him that only seemed to grow worse with every thrust and every stroke. He hated himself so much. He loved Snape desperately and he wanted to beg the man to at least pretend to love him tonight, but he bit his tongue. He had humiliated himself enough tonight.

When he came, he felt that amazing rush and that lovely dizziness and he swore his body had never felt so wonderful in his life. As he slumped against the bed, though, feeling Snape still driving into him, all he wanted to do was hide away in a corner, pretending he didn't exist. He never felt so low in his life as he did then, just moments after his orgasm, letting Snape fuck the shit out of him until the man came with a loud grunt and pulled out of him, rolling over to lay beside him. Harry lay against the bed, facing away from Snape, feeling tears stinging his eyes and a dryness in his throat. "I love you," he whispered, hating the way his voice cracked with emotion.

"Get out, Potter. I trust that will be all you will require from me?"

Harry said nothing. He stood up and got dressed, despite the way he gently shook and despite how entirely weak he felt physically and emotionally. He didn't look at Snape. He didn't even dare turn to let Snape get a good look at him at all. He dressed in silence, well aware of those dark eyes boring into his back as he finished up. The moment the last button was in place he Disapparated. In his own home he refused to cry. He refused to do anything but drink every last bit of alcohol he had in his flat. Waking up the morning of his wedding with a hangover probably wasn't smart, but Harry found that it was a price he was willing to pay to just try to forget.

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**Author's Note: **This was the sequel to To Just Stay Alive and, like that, this will stand as a one shot. The next story, If I Don't Belong, will be a multi chaptered fanfic and _may_ be the last story in the series. I don't have this series nearly as well planned out as Lost and Damned, but I'll hopefully get all of it figured out soon. Please read both stories and review both! You know how much I loves them!


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